The Bard's Song
by cloud-kun
Summary: A spin-off of the Canterbury Tales


The Bard's Song - Prologue  
  
And with a strum of string  
  
His words took sudden wing.  
  
"I speak of a tale,  
  
That breathes without fail,  
  
The moral values that man finds true.  
  
And now, I commence, without further ado."  
  
A soft picking upon the fragile mandolin  
  
Brought lilting notes to the mind within.  
  
And the soft voice of the light-singing Bard  
  
Pierced like a knife, so wicked and hard.  
  
"This story of two empires  
  
With souls made of fires  
  
From the deepest of Hell  
  
That neither knew well.  
  
The men who follow the blind  
  
Honorable oaths that bind  
  
A man to his kingdom.  
  
Never to know the pleasure of freedom."  
  
One final strum and the picking began  
  
"And now through the eyes of a simple man  
  
I tell you a tale of honor at best.  
  
In my words you shall find no jest."  
  
The Bard's Song  
  
Deep in a fading fantasy,  
  
A silver song, a dying decree  
  
Made by an aged king among men  
  
On his deathbed to his son, Tyrwen,  
  
Prince of Blythe. Born of King,  
  
Taken under father's wing.  
  
Pale lids closed upon former pools of gray,  
  
And lips became cold, a shade not so gay.  
  
'Settle the war, my dearest son.  
  
Do not stop 'til the battle's won.  
  
I haven't the strength to keep  
  
Fighting for victory's reap.  
  
Please, take command.  
  
Take your graceful hand,  
  
And lead your kingdom to the sun.  
  
I beg, fight until the battle's won.'  
  
The words resounded softly  
  
And cool, long after the king loft'ly  
  
Passed into the other world.  
  
And without a word, it was unfurled;  
  
A bitterness for the world so unreal,  
  
The son no longer could feel  
  
The line'd been crossed,  
  
The ribbon's unity lost.  
  
And with a great anguish,  
  
He rose from his knees without languish,  
  
And released an uproarus wail  
  
Like the most vicious of gail  
  
Mother Earth could muster  
  
And curses flew like tactless clusters.  
  
"Damn you to Hell, forsaken war!  
  
I swear by God's name I'll settle the score!  
  
Blythe shall make Piroget kneel and cower!  
  
And the hapless fools shall know my power!  
  
I'll crush their bodies and tear their souls!  
  
Because it's for them that Fate's bell tolls!  
  
And with this utterance, he left his father's bed  
  
To gather an army and insure blood was shed.  
  
And in Piroget, miles opposite of Blythe  
  
Sat yet another prince, of looks quite lithe.  
  
Fair hair falling over his angst-ridden eyes,  
  
Full of sorrow and sadness from all the good-byes.  
  
A cold, bitter grimace sat etched in his stone,  
  
Yet he daren't say a word, or even release a moan.  
  
Dark times had befallen the poor kingdom of Piroget,  
  
As with them, too, had problems been set.  
  
An illness returned and took from the land  
  
Their loving king, cutting life's thin strand.  
  
"My people are dying," he said to his  
  
Ears, muttering softly, "It can't be, but is.  
  
Our world is in peril, this anti-delight.  
  
The endless blood-shed and horrible fight  
  
Cannot continue if all wish to stand tall,  
  
I must be the victor, it's unnacceptable to fall."  
  
He shifted quietly on his throne, staring forever  
  
Into the void, in search of answers wherever.  
  
"How can I keep my people alive? Is there  
  
Any sort of release from this nightmare?  
  
I can't sit back and watch my people die  
  
From famine and war. The children that cry  
  
Need to be silenced with the music of peace.  
  
All this brutality and anger simply must cease!  
  
Why does Blythe continue this futile war!?  
  
Why must staying alive be an arduous chore?!  
  
I won't stand to see my people slaughtered like sheep!"  
  
And he, too, left. And all-out war did creep.  
  
Tyrwen stood atop vantage point looking  
  
Down upon his entire kingdom and speaking  
  
From the very bottom of his soul, he decreed,  
  
"People of Blythe! Hear my call! If you wish to survive,  
  
Then Piroget must fall! They will not leave you alive,  
  
There shall be no peace! They have taken our king  
  
In a swipe of a blade! And in return, it's death we shall bring!  
  
Our precious leader is gone and I am in place,  
  
I will not fail you, my people, in bitter disgrace!  
  
We must rally together for the righteous cause  
  
That we seek! Vanquish our enemies, flaws  
  
We shall meek! All Hell will break loose!  
  
Why run? Can you escape? What's the use?!  
  
Let us stand tall, my battered people! Let  
  
Us fight back against those that oppress! Whet  
  
Your blades and gather thy armor! Ready  
  
Thy horse, for tonight we make a steady  
  
Journey to their hill and the 'morrow will  
  
Bring us closer to our slaughter...our kill!"  
  
"My loyal people!" Gelven cried,  
  
"As you well know, our king is gone!  
  
But, so is our Piroget if the battle is not won!  
  
I ask you from the deepest of hearts  
  
That you defend your home with skillfull arts  
  
Of swordsmen and arches and riders alike  
  
To rally together and prepare for a strike!  
  
I feel the presence of an evil becoming  
  
Stronger in the world, and eventually numbing  
  
The lives of all who dwell deep in this place  
  
Because we will deny death's bitter embrace!"  
  
Blythe and Piroget gathered and gathered,  
  
Weapons to ears and in armor they slathered  
  
Themselves until they were set to the brim  
  
For upcoming battle. Faces were grim  
  
And smiles had fled and been replaced  
  
By unfriendly grimaces. With a great haste  
  
The men stood at the gates and marched  
  
Towards the battliefield between, wicked and parched.  
  
Step by step, each one they took, brought  
  
Them closer to the final battle they fought.  
  
Brands in hand and shields on arm,  
  
And faces displayed, with lack of alarm,  
  
A look of sheer potency, a grimace  
  
Of absolute inured toughness, to strike  
  
Fear into the hearts of their foes. Pike  
  
In hand, a young man spoke, "There is  
  
Our enemy, sir!" Tyrwen lowered his  
  
Vision as he would to strike fear,  
  
And quickly said, "It's all too clear,  
  
My young boy. The battle ends here.  
  
It is here on this land, this solemn fronteir,  
  
Where we shall drive deep the thorns  
  
Into the sides of those that plagued. Horns  
  
Of Lucifer will impale their souls on stakes  
  
And their infernal bodies will seethe with aches  
  
Wrought from the deepest and darkest of Hells.  
  
It is with our hands they'll feel pain all too well!  
  
My men! We stand tall on this field to fight!  
  
Victory is nearing, so close. Holy and bright!"  
  
With a single word, 'Halt!' Blythe's men stopped  
  
In mid-march. Senses were heightened, none dropped  
  
A noise to the air. Wind went silent through  
  
The barren wasteland, and then picked up as if on cue.  
  
"The wind's coming in," Gelwan muttered  
  
To his ears as he usually did. Not a word was uttered  
  
By any man who stood, but all halted  
  
As if they were waiting to be assaulted  
  
By their brothers in battle who stood  
  
On the other side, their anti-good.  
  
Gelwan released a yell, "Piroget!  
  
The time is now, the future's set!  
  
Nature knows that this is true!  
  
A storm is coming unto you!  
  
Pray that God is on our side  
  
For Fate's foretelling we must abide  
  
By her humble word and soothing voice;  
  
We've reached this far, we have no choice!  
  
Draw thy swords and ready thy steeds!  
  
For now is the time where we fulfill our needs!"  
  
And so it began, a light-hearted drizzle  
  
As emotions ran high and blood did fizzle  
  
Under their skin in anticipation  
  
For battle between these wondrous nations  
  
Would soon commence in a storm  
  
Of swords so valiant, a form  
  
So true to beauty it can't be denied.  
  
Fate and God here, can't be defied.  
  
The sky broke loose and out came  
  
The ocean, seeking glorious fame  
  
In the heat of the moment, lightning broke  
  
Free from its reigns, it struck in smoke  
  
And scorched the field. Thunder followed,  
  
And all men gasped and swallowed.  
  
It was beckoning, the time was too near.  
  
Hardened visages became too clear.  
  
And then there was silence....  
  
Followed by an outbreak of violence.  
  
Fury had come in the blink of an eye,  
  
As Nature and God looked down at men die  
  
On the lonely battlefield below  
  
And spirit set the plains aglow  
  
With hardened wills and iron swords,  
  
They clash and blood pours in the hordes  
  
While the rage fills the air and makes it thick  
  
Then the blood goes to work, causing a stick  
  
To the ground and a wretched aroma  
  
Rises and fills hearts with disgust and awe.  
  
Swords clashed, sparks flew and lives were taken all too quick.  
  
The battle raged and made ones sick  
  
To see their friends and brothers fallen  
  
Before their very eyes, lives were stolen.  
  
Horses fell dead as did their masters  
  
Who could forsee such distaster  
  
In a battle where only peace was to be gained?  
  
But instead, only hatred and angst reigned.  
  
Then it happened, the two had met.  
  
Gelwan and Tyrwen faced, cold sweat  
  
Dripping from their visages, breathing hard  
  
and staring viciously, holding the card  
  
They'd each been dealt. "It ends here and  
  
Now," they uttered in unison, each with a hand  
  
Holding the hilt of a blade. Shields cocked upright  
  
Readying for a fight, the final charge took flight.  
  
They met inbetween and they crossed their blades,  
  
Hair fell over their faces changing their shades  
  
Of violence and anger and turned them to smiles  
  
"So this is how it's going to end, Gelwan? The end of our trials?"  
  
Tyrwen grimaced harshly and forced himself forward.  
  
In defiance, Gelwan pushed, "I'll send your body shoreward!"  
  
Breaking the holds, the each backed away  
  
"This is your end, much to your dismay!"  
  
They roared once more and charged to end  
  
The bitter battle with a final Godsend  
  
Plea to finish what had already begun  
  
So that lives could be saved and all could be won.  
  
But, then an eerie thing occurred.  
  
The sweet, soft, lilting melody of a newflight bird.  
  
Where were the cries of battle and war?  
  
They had been killed with the fight they adore.  
  
So many lay dead, wounded and live.  
  
Not one more man dared to drive  
  
A whet blade into another as long as he breathed,  
  
So in return, the swords had been sheathed.  
  
The brothers helped one another to stand and not fall,  
  
They gathered in unison, each one and all.  
  
Piroget and Blythe and just realized,  
  
That to continue the battle was completely unwise.  
  
Tyrwen and Gelwan stood silent and cold.  
  
Glares and emotions were all they could hold.  
  
Tyrwen began, "You killed my father!"  
  
Gelwan retorted, "He had been such a bother!  
  
He had nearly impaled me on his vicious blade!  
  
It was not my choice, I had to evade!  
  
My father's dead, too! Disease was his death!  
  
He told me to fight with his dying breath!"  
  
"My father, too! It was to bring peace!"  
  
"This is peace?! This quarrel must cease!"  
  
Darkened eyes softened and swords fell to the Earth,  
  
In many mens' deaths, something had been given birth.  
  
Brotherly love among the men that fought  
  
Was found in what they for so long sought.  
  
Peace was born, childish and anew  
  
Fighting is useless, this always holds true.  
  
The Bard's Song - Epilogue  
  
"And thusly it ends, I hope you enjoyed  
  
The tell I just told, the one I envoyed  
  
Into your ears and into your hearts  
  
These morals I wish they never you part."  
  
The Bard strummed once, twice, and thrice  
  
On his mandolin to conclude. The price  
  
Of his song was free, but came with a flaw.  
  
It struck deep in the soul, it struck it raw.  
  
"Thank you for letting me tell my solemn tale,  
  
Now for the next one, let's hope it not fail  
  
To entertain us much like the others  
  
While we sit and listen, like sisters and brothers." 


End file.
